Madness
by you'vegotthis
Summary: She finds herself in a world were things cannot be as they seem.
1. Chapter 1

At her first conscious thought, Kate realizes she can't move her arms, her eyes won't stay open and her thoughts are fuzzy. After several long slow blinks she can see the ceiling tiles, tiny holes in white foam, one foot by one foot squares. She cranes her neck trying to make sense of them. Her eyes close again. She just needs to rest.

"Karen?" she feels a hand shake her shoulder, and a female voice calls out, "Karen? Time to wake up."

Someone stiffly rubs her sternum and wow, it hurts enough to pull her from her lethargy. She opens her eyes to meet the grey eyes and matching hair of a woman in pink scrubs.

"Hi Karen, you need to wake up, can't sleep all day, lunch is in a little while and Dr. Phillips will want to see you before then."

Kate's so confused, "where am I?"

"You're in a place you can rest and get well, Karen."

"My name isn't Karen," she lifts her head and realizes her arms are restrained, tied to the head of the bed above her, "why am I here? Untie me," she demands.

"Relax. Dr. Phillips will be here in a moment and you can discuss all of that with him. You're here to rest and get well." And then the woman is headed out the door.

"Wait, hey, wait, untie me!"

She takes a moment to look around, the room contains nothing but the bed, pushed up against one wall, the door has a square of window in it and what looks like an inset metal drawer. She flips herself over so she can see the restraints on her hands. They look medical, Velcro over padded cuffs and she realizes from this angle that she can probably get them off with her mouth. She pushes her knees under herself and moves up to pull on the cuff with her teeth, hears the tearing of the Velcro and manages to free one hand, in a moment she's out of bed and pressed up against the window. There is nothing but a keyhole on the door, no handle of any type on her side.

She's wearing some kind of loose pants and a kimono style top with short ties on the side, obviously hospital issue. What hospital? The most she can see out of the tiny window is a hallway and part of another door across the way.

Where the hell is she?

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

She's standing at the door looking out when a man in a white coat appears in her view. Grey hair and glasses, he sees her watching him.

"Karen? I'm Dr. Phillips, why don't you go sit on the bed so I can come in and talk with you." She backs up, sits down on the bed and hears the lock turn. The doctor enters and behind him, a large black man dressed in the same pink scrubs she saw on the nurse.

"Hi there," he says, coming closer to the bed, "this is Adrian," he motions to the man now guarding the door. He offers nothing more before asking, "how are you feeling?"

"I think there has been some kind of mistake, my name is not Karen, it's Kate, Kate Beckett. I just woke up here and I don't know where I am. I need to make a phone call."

"Okay, slow down a little there, Karen. Let's back up some, you don't remember why you are here?"

She eyes him, he's a little too calm for the panic she's starting to feel, her voice is full of authority when she says, "I told you, my name is not Karen, my name is Kate, and I'm an NYPD detective, I need to make a phone call right now."

"You're a detective? With the NYPD?"

She nods, finally, he's listening.

"Why do you think you are here, Karen?"

She's growing annoyed with this, with him and his calm voice. She rises to stand but thinks better of it as she sees Phillips raise a hand to stay Adrian. It slows her.

"I don't know why I'm here, and my name is not Karen. Are you going to let me use the phone or not?"

"Well that depends, who do you want to call?"

"I don't see how that's your business, show me to a phone," and then she lifts an eyebrow and says decisively, "now please."

He tilts his head, considering her. It thoroughly annoys her, he seems to think he has some control over her.

"I think it may take a few days for you to adjust here and then we can see about using the phone, Karen."

She's starting to panic, needs to call upon the skills she has, needs to turn the tide of power. She narrows her eyes at him, "Why am I here?"

"You don't remember?"

"No," she suddenly realizes she doesn't remember anything of her recent past.

"You were involved in a terrible incident, Karen, you don't remember because your mind can't handle it yet. You need to rest and things will become clearer."

She rubs her eyes, that, it, that doesn't seem right. Does it?

"Please, let me make a phone call, my partner, he can help me with this."

"Is that your partner at the NYPD?"

"Yes, he can help, let me call him."

"Karen, you don't work for the NYPD, you were a law clerk before this incident."

It's starting to dawn on her, they don't believe her. They think she's crazy.

"No, seriously, call my dad, talk to him, he'll straighten this out."

"I think you are a little agitated, I'm going to give you something to calm you down, it will help your mind rest. Why don't you lay back?"

"No!" Kate's emphatic, "No, listen to me, call my dad, I'll give you his number, he's my health proxy, he'll want to be involved in any medical decisions."

Adrian is already coming toward her.

"Okay, Karen, the problem is that the incident involved your father, so we can't talk to him right now."

"What? What happened to my dad?" She stands, but Adrian pushes her shoulders back on the bed. She responds immediately breaking his hold in a quick sweep of her hands, standing and landing an uppercut in a smooth, practiced motion.

He curses as she makes for the door, the doctor thrown back by the sudden commotion. She can't get it open before his arms are around her hips, lifting her feet from the floor. She struggles and kicks, but he has at least one hundred pounds on her and he's using his weight to throw her across the bed and hold her down.

The last thing she feels is the needle in her hip.

A/N: Overworked amateur writer waves flag of surrender to crazed readers, I bleed e-ink, stab me with a review…


	2. Chapter 2

She can't tell if it's night or day when she wakes again, but she hardly cares, her mind is so fuzzy, she feels detached from her body. She thought what happened might have been a dream, but one look around and she realizes she's still here. She struggles to sit up.

The drawer in the door is pushed to her side of the door.

Inside is a sandwich, a metal tumbler of water, and an apple. She drinks down the water greedily, she has no idea how long she's been here but her body is telling her she's parched.

Adrian appears at the little window and she hears the sound of the drawer being pulled from the hallway side. He pushes it back on her side. "If you don't eat, I can't let you out."

She has no idea what that means, but even as uninterested as she is in food at that moment, she realizes she needs to do something to get out of the room. She stuffs the sandwich down her throat and takes quick bites all the way around the core of the apple, tossing it in the drawer when she's done.

She stands at the door a bundle of nerves, shifting from foot to foot, while the mantra in her head continues to strum out, _what happened to my dad? Why am I here? What's going on?_

Finally, Adrian returns, checks the drawer again, she can hear him laughing with someone down the hall. He looks at her through the glass.

"Okay Karen, you gonna play ball?" She feels the humiliation setting in as she shakes her head, anything to get out.

"Go sit on the bed." As soon as she does she hears him turn the lock and push the door open, she walks through, getting a first glance at the elusive hallway. There are doors on both ends, locked doors.

Xoxoxoxoxoxo

He leads her, stiffly holding her upperarm, to a day room where a variety of people are playing games, watching television, reading. She stands glancing around until the gray-haired nurse that first roused her appears, she wonders again how long she's been here.

"Come on Karen, honey, you must need the restroom by now," she takes Kate gently by the elbow to an open door, beyond it, open stalls with no doors for privacy.

When she finishes, she wanders out to find the woman waiting for her. She wonders if she should try with this woman.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Marla."

"Marla, where am I?"

"St. Catherine's Hospital," Marla responds directly.

"What city? What state?"

"We're in White Plains, New York."

"What happened to me?"

Marla looks sympathetic, "I think the doctor will want to talk about that with you. Why don't you join Sarah here and read a bit." Kate looks at Sarah, who is most certainly not reading, but is seemingly staring at the pages of a magazine.

"Marla, I need to use a phone."

"That will be up to the doctor. Here, sit down." She fairly pushes Kate on to the couch and Kate decides it would be easier to observe the room if she isn't standing in the middle of it.

She notices more people in pink scrubs in a little booth in one corner of the room, locked doors at both ends, and a thin, but visible layer of chicken-wire between the panes of glass to the outside world.

What the hell has she gotten herself into?

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

A tall, thin man in pink scrubs eventually approaches her, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Karen, Dr. Phillips would like to talk with you."

He leads her though the locked door (he has a card key), and into an office. She hesitates a moment wondering where the hallway ahead of her may lead. This may be her chance to make a run for it. The tall man's hand on her shoulder tells her it's too late, and he leads her into a large room with a few chairs. Phillips is occupying the largest.

"Karen, come, have a seat," he gestures to the chair across from him, "How are you feeling?"

"Please tell me what is going on," she says as she sits.

"What do you remember?"

"I don't know, I think I remember leaving my apartment to come to work, but I don't know when that was, and then I woke up here."

"You don't remember seeing your father?"

"No. I . . ." she cocks her head, "no, why would I see my father?"

"You don't remember going to his house?"

"I went to my dad's house? The cabin? I haven't been there since last summer, why would I . . ."

"Karen, I'm going to tell you some very painful things, but you need to hear them so you can start to move beyond them, okay?"

Anything to put the pieces of the mystery together.

"The police brought you here two days ago, you were covered in blood." She swallows, not liking the sound of this.

"You were at your dad's house. He was bleeding from a knife wound."

"Is he okay? Can I see him?"

"I'm afraid he passed away."

Her eyes grow wide, fear, horror, surprise engulf her. "What?"

"The police brought you here because you hurt him, Karen."

"What?" She can't breathe, can't speak.

"Do you remember why you were angry with him?"

"My dad? Jim Beckett? Are you saying I killed my dad?" She is so confused.

"Take a deep breath."

_This can't be true._

"I need to make a phone call."

"Who do you want to call Karen?"

"My name is not Karen, you have me confused with someone else. I need to call my partner, Richard Castle, please let me use the phone, we can fix this."

"Richard Castle the author?" Damn, she already knows where this is headed, it even sounds crazy in her own ears.

"Yes, but he consults with my department at the NYPD. We work together, please, let me call him."

She sees the shift in his eyes, _he's amused._

Kate Beckett is angry, but certain that any move she makes is being monitored. Her eyes flash frustration.

Phillips suddenly sits forward in his chair, "I think that's enough for today. Try to relax, we'll work this out."

She wonders what there really is to work out, how much of what he's telling her is true.

She's escorted back through locked doors to her room. Adrian pops into view a few minutes later, sliding another metal cup of water through the door, next to it, a tiny paper cup with a pink pill.

"Dr. Phillips says this will help you sleep."

There's a moment of decisiveness, if she wants to find out what's really going on, she's going to need to work on her act, she palms the pill as she pretends to knock it back, chasing it with a sip of water.

"Let me see inside your mouth," he says through the door, and she opens wide so he can check. Satisfied, he moves away.

As soon as he's gone, she considers the room. The bed is on a simple "H" frame, a headboard and footboard of rough plastic with slots, holding up a flat piece with a mattress on top. She quickly pulls the mattress from the frame and pulls the bed to stand upright on its footboard. She climbs to the top, balancing her weight and checking what's above the ceiling tiles. There are no barriers here. If she works this right, she can get herself into the hallway at least. She jumps down at about the same time the lights go out.

_Even better._

The light from the hallway is still on, but the room is dark enough to enable her boldness. She moves the bed to a better position closer to the door and climbs it again, slipping the ceiling tile out of place and sticking her head into the space. She can definitely do this.

She lifts herself enough to pull open a ceiling tile that is over the hallway and is able to see down. She take a moment to hike her weight off the bed and onto the head trimmer. Looking down for an opportunity, she can see a metal cart at the end of the hall with the same metal cups and various trays on it, an older woman is pulling items from one of the drawers close to the exit, wet rag in hand. She's humming some tune, no doubt harmonizing with whatever she's hearing through her earbuds. Her back is to Kate's end of the hall.

She moves with stealth, drops from the height of the ceiling like a cat, which surprises her, it's a long way down. She runs quietly to the cart and crouches into the space below, hoping the woman doesn't hear the sound of her weight bowing the metal shelf.

If she does, she goes back to work. Kate closes her eyes, hoping if she can't see them, they can't see her as she's wheeled through the locked door and back into the day room. She slips from the cart as soon as it stops, crouching behind a long couch.

The staff members are amusing themselves, laughing and talking in the small room. The door propped open allowing their voices to spill out into the darken room she waits in.

She can see a phone sitting on the counter just inside the window. Two pink uniforms are sitting nearby engaged in conversation, too close to get to that phone.

She waits.

Suddenly there's a commotion and it takes a moment for her to realize that someone has discovered her room. The tall escort from earlier is yelling at the women closest to the phone.

"Call security, we have a breach, Karen Sanders, room 211. Code Silver."

One of the women uses the elusive phone to repeat the information and both of them leave the booth headed for whatever stations are required in their protocol. It's her chance.

She flies into the tiny office, snatches the phone off the counter and falls to floor, out of sight of anyone passing by the booth. She's having a hard time keeping her hand steady as she dials his number.

The call doesn't go through.

She tries hitting another button, selecting another line.

This time it rings.

"Obstetrics."

She hangs up, she must be dialing extensions instead of an outside line.

She dials nine and then the number, this time it rings. Only it goes to voicemail.

"Castle, it's me. St. Catherine's Hospital, White Plains, come get me, they think . . ."

And then there's a pink uniform in front of her. She tries scrambling out of her place under the counter, but he's already on her, pinning her to the floor. She breaks free, only to stumble into a woman, who grabs at her shirt long enough for the man recover and tackle her. In a moment there are three of them on her.


	3. Chapter 3

"Heard you gave my staff quite a show last night." Phillips is standing over her, and this time her hands and feet are bound to the bed. She winces and rubs her face on the inside of her elbow.

"I told you," she says, her own voice sounding warbled in her head, "I just needed to make a phone call."

"I'm not sure we can help you here Karen, I've asked that you be moved to a facility that can handle violent patients. Hopefully that will happen today."

"What? No, wait," if they move her, he'll never find her, "call the 12th Precinct, ask for Detective Esposito, he'll tell you that you're making a mistake."

"I've already told you Karen, the police are the ones who brought you here."

"Well then call Dr. Carter Burke, he's my psychologist."

"I'm sure they will call him once you've been transferred. Just relax, it won't be long."

_Shit._

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Esposito had gotten a text from her on Friday saying she was going out of town, which was a little out of character but not concerning until Castle asked for her on Monday afternoon.

"She didn't text you?"

"No, should she have?"

The detective narrows his eyes at the author, "you two fighting?"

"Not that I'm aware of, everything was fine when I left her Friday, she was finishing paperwork."

"And you didn't help her man? On a Friday? No wonder you two haven't hooked up yet."

Esposito hit speed dial on his cell and listened as Beckett's number rolled to voice mail.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Alexis texts him a joke, something about writers and their plots, that's when he notices the miss-call. Doesn't recognize the number. Doesn't give it a second thought.

oxoxoxoxooxxoxo

They come into the room with a gurney, roll it right next to her bed. Two guys, not in the soothing pink, but stark white. They don't bother to release her restraints, simply untie the tethers from one bed, lift her like a rolled rug and re-tether her to the gurney.

"This is a mistake," she's really tiring of her own story, can't help the rising panic in her voice, "Call my psychiatrist. Call Carter Burke."

It's bad enough to not understand where she's been, but it's worse to not know where she's going.

Xoxooxoxoxoxoxooxox

He's worried enough to get the spare key from her father and head to her apartment with Esposito in tow. There's a moment, right before he opens the door, when he flashes on the idea of her lying dead on the floor of her apartment. Pictures her colleagues working her scene. He closes his eyes as he pushes the door open for Javier Esposito to step through first.

"Beckett?"

"Kate?"

He follows Esposito through the rooms of her apartment, the only thing out of place is her unmade bed. The glance at each other, an expectation passing between them.

"She usually leave the bed unmade before she goes to work?"

He considers the Hispanic detective, "What makes you think I would know?"

It gets a smirk but not an answer.

His fingers find the edge of the wooden box on her dresser, his suspicion turning to fear. The bile rising to his throat as he looks inside.

Her gun.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"I'll get CSU over here right away. You call Ryan, get him to trace her cell."

But he's already dialing her number, and the two men are listening to the sounds of Bolero fill the room. He knows what this means, it had been a quiet joke between them for a few weeks now, ever since he'd stolen her phone and downloaded the tune, shortly after Ryan's wedding. Although it went unspoken, they both know the reasoning behind it. Their playboy murder suspect had said it raised the chances of 'closing the deal' by 15%. She hadn't bothered to reset it.

Esposito kneels by the bed and finds her cell phone on the floor underneath.

xoxooxoxoxoxoxoxo

Ryan's jogs up to them, dodging the CSU crew swarming on the apartment. He can't help but think about how mad she's going to be when she finds out these people have been through her things.

"Neighbor down the hall wanted to know if, and I quote, 'the pretty police lady was feeling better,' says she saw her being taken to an ambulance in the middle of the night, sometime around 2 a.m."

All three men exchange glances. "If she were sick, she would have contacted her dad."

"You and Castle call local hospitals, I'm going to contact ambulance dispatch." Esposito's already dialing.

Xoxoxoxooxxoxoxoxo

She's managed to kick the one at her feet squarely in the chest. After a moment he's got both hands around her free ankle and seems to take a perverse pleasure in pulling the strap through the brown leather restraints. Her shirt is rucked up, exposing her belly, but neither of the men seem keen on helping her feel human.

"Aughhhhhhh," she screams out in frustration as they leave her to her new home. Dark blue pleather covers the walls. Windowless. A padded cell.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

They find nothing. No ambulance picked her up, no hospital has her. He feels a distinct turn in his stomach. His hope is gone, he can't tell himself it will be okay, someone has taken Kate.

Xoxoxooxoxoxoxo

They've gone through traffic footage near her apartment, still nothing.

"The neighbor only saw them take her out on a gurney, doesn't mean they put her in an ambulance, could be a van? Catering truck? There are a hopeless number of potential subjects crossing their view of traffic in the early morning hours in Manhattan.

He finds himself rubbing his forehead. Why the hell didn't he help her with paperwork when he had the chance?

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxo

_He's found her. Thank god. He stares but stands unmoving in the door way. She can't reach out to him, she's held back. And then he's falling. Falling forward, slumping down. Dead._

"Castle!" She screams through a drug-induced haze.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

It's two a.m. and he rubs his eyes. He can't figure it out. Why would someone take Kate? Why not just kill her? Someone needs her out of the way.

He's sitting at her desk, flipping through her phone. None of her recent calls, in or out, seem odd. He closes the screen in time to see the marker on her calendar app. He flips it open. Monday morning at 10 she's supposed to be at the courthouse. Brian Harper suspected of killing his wife. He remembers the case, open and shut. She's a prosecution witness in a murder case. On Monday. And then it dawns on him.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxxo

She doesn't know what they gave her and she doesn't care. Can't keep a thought in her head for two seconds let alone an emotion.

They don't let her out. Leave her a bed pan. Leave her some water. Tasteless chicken and rice. She doesn't know how long she's been here. She doesn't care.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo 

Ryan tries to talk him down, he's ready to bust through the door where Esposito is questioning Harper. They're at Rikers, where Harper is being held pending trial. Dressed in an orange DOC jumpsuit he looks every bit the guilty man. Guilty or not, he's not talking.

But Castle's sure, this man took his Kate.

Esposito asks again, "Do you know the whereabouts of Detective Beckett?"

"What's the matter, can't keep track of the bitch? That's not –"

Before Espo can react, Castle has let himself in the room, tipped Harper's chair and stands, fist drawn back, over their suspect. "Where is she?"

"Whoa, man," he holds both hands up defensively, ready to block the strike the larger-framed author is barely containing.

Espo's on Castle's raised fist, pulling him up, wrapping his arm behind his back, forcing him from the room.

"Calm down, man!" He shoves Castle into the viewing room, releasing him even as the author watches Ryan righting their suspect roughly and settling in to recover their interrogation.

Rick runs a hand through his hair, trying to compose himself, but the edge of his uncharacteristic anger is there in his tone when he lifts his head, "he knows where she is."

"You don't know that man. You could have seriously jeopardized this case."

"She's not a case, Javi." His eyes plead with the Hispanic detective, something vaguely pathetic in the way he looks away as he lowers his voice. "This is my fault, I should have stayed with her."

"Look Castle, you seriously think you could have done anything against a guy who got the drop on Beckett?"

The men lock eyes.

"Trust me bro, that guy's in for a world of hurt, we need cool heads if we're going to figure out where he took her and get her back."

He couldn't say aloud the grim thought that completed that sentence, _dead or alive._


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I really don't have time to be writing this right now, so pardon me if I don't write back telling you how awesome you are for reviewing this for me. It's like some kind of bizarre addiction-this review thing. Look out or I'll suck you into my madness….

When they give him back his phone outside the prison he sees his mailbox has messages. He's listening to them as he climbs in the backseat behind Ryan and Esposito.

"Shit," he barks out, "we need to go to White Plains."

Xoxoxooxoxoxoxox

"I'm sorry sir, we have no one by that name here," the too perky hospital receptionist says.

"How many patients are in this hospital?" Castle asks.

"One hundred fifty beds, sir," she says it proudly, while all three groan internally.

"Get me the Hospital Administrator," but his uncharacteristic gruffness is met with the support of the detectives who flash their badge at the now sober receptionist.

Xxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Too much. Please. Don't." She begs. _This must be my punishment for killing him._

Ooxxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxxo

They've been flashing her picture to all the department gate keepers. He has the one from his phone, her sweet smile as she turns slightly from the camera. He loves that one. He needs to see that one again, and a panicky hope is rising in his chest. She's here, somewhere in this hospital. Not dead. Here. He just needs to find her.

They ask the psychiatric department receptionist, who is perched in a little booth next to the security door, and she tells them she's sorry, but she's never seen anyone who looks like the picture. Just then a buzzer sounds and a large African-American man in pink scrubs exits the locked ward pulling his jacket on.

"Excuse me sir, have you seen this woman?" Esposito has his badge in one hand and a picture of Kate in the other.

"Yeah, that hell-cat. Think her name was Kathy? Karen?"

"It's Kate," Castle defends, both irritated and eager.

"I think they transferred her after she fought some of our staff. See Phillips, he knows more."

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

She feels the splash of luke warm water wash over her, alerting her to her current state – naked, seated in a large tub, one wrist handcuffed to the bar along the side.

_Guilty people wear handcuffs._

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

"Oh my god, you really are Richard Castle," Phillips falls back into the chair he just rose from to greet them. "I didn't believe her when she told me she worked with you."

"Where is she?" Castle's breathing hard, he's never felt so desperate to close a case, _this man knows something_.

"Department of Corrections came earlier to take her to a secure facility, after I . . ."

"After you what?" Ryan closes in on Phillips personal space.

"I thought she was dangerous, she attacked some of our staff when I wouldn't let her use the phone, I . . .I . . .I had her transferred to their custody thinking they'd put her in the psychiatric prison ward at Douglas."

"You sent her to that hell hole man?" Esposito is up in Phillips face, "When?"

"What's wrong with Douglas?" Castle asks, confused.

Esposito schools his face, he doesn't need to add to the Author's anxiety. "Let's go get her."

Xoxoxoxoxoxo

"It says that Douglas is for the most dangerous, criminally insane inmates," Castle reads off the internet on his phone. He's horrified at the thought of their Kate in a place with that kind of description.

"Don't worry man, we'll get her out," Ryan reassures. Esposito just shakes his head in agreement.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

For a man charged by the state to work with the criminally emotional, the warden is oddly detached.

"Says here she's being held pending a murder charge."

"That's a mistake, she's actually a detective with the twelfth," Ryan starts.

They can all hear the faint screams of an inmate, it puts them on edge, except the warden, who appears un-phased.

"Says here she's a danger to others."

Ryan can see Esposito winding up, he rushes ahead of his partner's comments, "Like we said it's a mistake. I'm sure if you contact the arresting officer we can straighten this all out."

"I'll do that," the man says dismissively. It's enough to break Esposito, he fairly growls out his next words.

"You'll do that now."

"I'm not getting into a pissing contest with you, _Detective Esposito_, but I don't generally just take the word of people who stroll into my facility. There's a procedure to be followed."

"Then follow it. We'll wait while you do," Esposito snarls.

"You know what time it is? She's not going anywhere until I can verify all of this."

"Then let me see her," Castle's anxiety is rising.

"Not possible. We don't have visitors in this facility. Lawyers only."

"Damnit man, cut the act, she's one of us," Esposito's voice is rising.

"Yeah? Well if she's a danger to society, whose head do you think the governor will have if one of you is her next victim? Come back with the right paperwork."

Esposito sweeps a hand across the desk, sending a stack of files to the floor as Ryan escorts a reluctant Castle out the door.

"Wait, just let me see her!"

The pain of leaving her behind is excruciating. He can't stop thinking about how close they were just moments before and now, they're headed off in the wrong directions. Away from Kate. He's leaving his partner.

xoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxo

She's sitting upright, her head resting in the angle of two padded walls. She's dragged herself into this corner hoping to stay awake, but her arms and legs are akimbo, not under her control. She's closed her eyes just for a minute. _Castle._

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxxoxoxoxox

He's called the Mayor. Esposito's called judges. Ryan's working with the Captain, tracing the arrest record for one Karen Sanders, picked up from an address in Manhattan, which is roughly located in the middle of the Hudson. They work all night.

When he stops for a cup of coffee he can't help but raise his eyes to her desk. He wishes he were making this cup for her, wishes he could see her, know that she was okay. He hasn't gone this long without seeing her since last summer. His heart aches.

"We're going to get her Castle. We know where she is," Ryan tries to comfort him.

He turns his face away, blinking back the liquid that gathers there.

"Who are the arresting officers?" Gates demands when they brief her.

"Martinez and Guff, out of the 24thPrecinct."

"I'll get on them, you guys go back and wake up the warden. I want my detective out of his custody."

"Yes sir," the men answer in unison.

Xoxoxoxoxoxox

He's in the cell the moment they open the door, pushes past the guard.

"Kate?" His throat is thick with emotion as he falls to his knees between her legs. She doesn't respond, her face slack, eyes closed. _God, what the hell did they give to her?_

He leans into her, both hands on her neck, feeling a strong and steady pulse. She opens her eyes, but they hold no focus, no recognition.

"Kate?" He swallows audibly, sucks in a breath. Cups her face with his hands. "Kate, say something. Look at me."

He pulls her to him and feels her head hit his shoulder, no attempt to seek comfort, when he tries to adjust her, she spasms. Weakly lifts her hands, pushes and slaps at his chest.

"I'll call for a bus," Ryan lifts his phone to dial.

No way in hell is he letting her go back to a hospital. Any kind of hospital.

"Kate, it's Rick, you're okay. I've got you." He hauls her upright by her arms, but she is loose and gangly, and he has to swing her legs out from under her with one arm. Her body is long and solid in his arms as he tucks her head under his chin and adjusts her body to carry her out of her prison. Out of her darkness.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Last chapter, hope you enjoyed it.

Kevin Ryan is a little freaked out. He keeps steeling glances in the backseat of the cruiser. The way Castle has Beckett lying across his lap is disturbing, her head cradled in his arms, the writer is whispering incomprehensible things inches from her face. It reminds Ryan of that day. The one she almost didn't survive.

Castle wouldn't let them help him haul her to the car. He simply laid her across the back seat and crawled in, gathering her limp limbs, cradling her torso like a baby, while her legs stretch out across the seat. And then he waited for them to take him home.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxoxoxoxo 

When she finally comes around, some twelve hours later, he's so relieved. He'd spent most of that time on the floor, by her bed. Kate Beckett's bed.

Lanie had assured him that she'd likely just sleep off the antipsychotics they gave her, might be a little dizzy, a little unsettled, "hell of a dose, though."

So, he'd camped out, called his family, called her dad, prepared to wait for her to come around. Familiar territory.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

"Castle?" she croaked, skimming a hand over the bedspread to touch his shoulder. Her eyes are bright despite her furrowed brow.

"Hey, Kate," he drops the cell phone he's been playing with and rises to lean over her, can't resist sweeping a hand over her forehead to push her hair back from her face.

"What happened?" She says , struggling to sit up, not allowing him the intimacy.

He sits back on the edge of the bed, resisting the compulsion to touch her, he doesn't quite know what to do with his hands. He settles on resting a hand on the other side of her legs, effectively bridging his body over hers.

"You don't remember?"

She blinks hard, squeezing her eyes. It's on the edge of her consciousness but she cannot access it.

"A hospital?"

He nods, "a prison hospital."

She brings a hand to the side of her head, as if pressing into her skull will somehow bring it back, "What the hell happened?"

"Do you remember the Harper case?"

"No," she looks up, alarmed, "should I?"

"Husband killed the wife, pretty open and shut? He paid them to get you out of the picture for his trial, you were supposed to testify on Monday."

"I don't remember, wait, I was . . . did you say I was in prison?" She's so confused, this all doesn't seem right.

"A prison hospital."

"What is wrong with me? What did I do?" Her voice is high as she looks away from him. She sounds alone, desperate.

"Kate," he moves a hand to her shoulder, "you didn't do anything, they took you to get you out of the way," he ducks his head to catch her eyes.

She alerts on her surroundings, "how did I get here? Why are you here?"

He's needs to calm her down.

"Kate, listen to me, you know me? You trust me?"

She stares at him a moment before slowly nodding her head.

"I think you just need to calm down, relax a little and this will come back to you, okay? I'll make you some tea, you'll be alright." He rubs his hands up and down her upper arms and then stands.

"Wait," she says, grabbing his arm, "don't . . . don't leave me."

He sits back down, and it's a good thing, because he doesn't think he could handle what Kate Beckett does next if he were standing.

It feels like a movie when she falls forward into his chest, her arms coming around his broad shoulders to pull him to her. He's so happy to wrap his arms around her, feel her solid presence with him. Wanting his comfort.

"I couldn't convince them," she whispers, huffing the words into his shoulder. He waits, knowing there will be more. "I remember, they didn't believe me, they wouldn't let me call you."

He takes advantage of the opportunity to stroke her hair, press his head into the side of hers, close his eyes.

"I tried, Castle, I tried to, but they said I killed. . .oh, my dad! Castle, they said I killed him." She tries to pull back, she's alarmed, but he doesn't let her go.

"I talked to your dad earlier, he's fine. It was a lie Kate. Nothing they told you was true."

Her relief is evident, but she tenses again when he tips his forehead to hers.

"I was scared for both of us," he exhales, "I'm sorry. . . I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you."

"You got me out Castle." She cups his cheeks and looks into his eyes, "you were there for me, you always are."

"Yeah, I am, Kate."

He searches her eyes a moment before he sees her flick her eyes to his lips, it's a moment and he can't let another one pass, he's already let them pass so very man times. He leans in to press his lips to hers and feels her response, the push of her jaw taking them deeper. Her tongue tipping to explore his mouth. The mattress creaks as she pulls him down to lie over her. Her fingers sliding into the softness of his hair as she hums a breathy little moan, enough to cause the muscles in his stomach to contract and his own feelings escape in primal utterances. In that moment they are both lost, their breathing labored, primal need pressing. Until they both can't breathe and they have to break.

He holds her tight, disbelieving his own eyes as she smiles up at him.

"I don't want to wait anymore, Castle. I was so trapped, I couldn't get out on my own. My whole life has been like that. I know you're tired, I'm finally tired too," she whispers.

He wants to laugh. Surely this is a cosmic joke, she's still high on the drugs they gave her. She's here and she's letting him lie on top of her? Is he imagining this? It must show on his face because she is moving her arm to stroke the space just below his bottom lip with her two fingers.

"Castle," so soft it's barely audible.

"I love you Kate. God, I've loved you for so long," he confesses collapsing over her, rolling them to face each other. "I don't know how to keep going without you. When I realized you were gone . . ."

"Shh," she runs her fingers over his lips to still him," I need you too."

She said it.

He blinks back his shock. Maybe he's gone crazy too?

Before he can recover she's moving, leaning forward to get closer to him.

"Castle, I knew you'd get me out. I was holding on for you. Whether I killed my dad or not, I knew you'd tell me the truth." She's moved her hand to his chest, covering his heart.

"Kate, I . . .," he stops and looks at her, "are you still drugged?"

She laughs.

"No, but maybe I really am crazy?" She leans in over him, tenderly kisses his forehead, the tip of his nose, the side of his mouth. Her touch is feather-light, and he can't contain himself. Kate Beckett is kissing him.

He decides he'd be crazy not to kiss her back.


End file.
